


Growing Strong

by lokiyan



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-19
Updated: 2012-06-19
Packaged: 2017-11-08 02:56:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/438369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokiyan/pseuds/lokiyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the ASOIAF Kinkmeme. Prompt: "Margaery/Sansa/Willas, Margaery is used to sharing with her brothers, after all"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Growing Strong

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while back for the kink meme, but figured I'd post it here too.

When she was a young girl, her brother Willas would sit her on his knee and tell her just how much he his little sister. "Girls are special," he'd say. "Garlan and Loras and me, we will never let anything happen to you. You're our little rose." He would tell her that when she grew up, she will understand the utter perfection that is a woman in full bloom. She could bring men to their knees with just a smile and move entire armies with a look. "Ladies, true ladies, they glow. They should be cherished and loved and tended to like your garden."

There were no gardens in King's Landing, just weeds and snakes and rats. Joffrey was the worst of them all, a monster hidden in the heart of a maze. Margaery charms him in the most obvious ways a woman could and learns quickly the way of the Crownlands. The victor takes all and Sansa Stark, the trampled little thing, was hardly a survivor, let alone a victor.

When Margaery looked at her, her brothers' words rang in her ear and like any of her brothers would if they were here, she took the girl under her wing. What she never expected, one of the few things her grandmother never warned her of, was the addictive quality that certain ladies possessed. The more time Margaery spent with Sansa, the more she craved her. In the maidenvault, with her head bowed in concentration to the needlework in her hands, Margaery found it impossible to look away from the pale, swan neck that could wind up in the gallows at Joffrey's whim. When she pricked her finger red from her distraction, while the other ladies gasped and tittered away from her, it was Sansa who, with soft hands and the most gentle mannerism she had ever seen, applied slight pressure to the wound and bandaged her up.

When Margaery kissed her on the cheek in gratitude, she felt the warmth of her blush and the natural scent of her, something woodsy and light, and the small dimple from the few smiles she granted made the Golden Rose of Highgarden bend to her like the sun. While she is plenty used to the praises of men - gallant knights and silvertongued singers - it was Sansa Stark of the icy North that shortened her breath and quickened her heart.

Girls were special, Willas said.

It was a sunny day when Margaery informed Sansa that she had a surprise for her. The two rode out to a shed in the King's Wood on steeds gifted to them - to her - by Joffrey. She opened the door and the look on Sansa's face proved her brother correct. True ladies did glow, especially when they laugh and smile the way Sansa did when she beheld the pup sticking its muzzle out of its wire cage. Sansa rushed to unlock the contraption and was immediately greeted with licks that tickled laughs out of her the likes of which Margaery had never heard. "Can I really keep her?"

"My brother breeds hunting dogs. He can spare one for his favorite sister." He could spare anything if it meant that Margaery could see the joy on Sansa's face everyday.

A shadow cast over Sansa's face. "But Joffrey..."

"I'll take care of Joffrey."

Sansa began shaking. "No, he won't allow it. It would... He just, he wouldn't..." She grasped the sleeve of her gown and Margaery knew that the skin beneath is mottled in bruises from another one of his rages.

She held the younger girl's face in her hands. "I will take care of Joffrey, I promise." Sansa's eyes met hers and that moment of complete dependence, of unconditional trust, made her forget all of her grandmother's teachings about caution. She kissed her tenderly and laid her back on the grass, Sansa's red hair a lovely contrast to the vibrant green grass. Their white limbs slid against each other under the clearest sky and Margaery had never in her life felt more natural and powerful all at the same time. She was one with the earth and the sky and the wind and Sansa, oh sweet, innocent Sansa who blushes from her scalp to her toes...

Margaery keeps her promise and as Joffrey fell dead at their wedding, arranged for Sansa to be spirited away before Cersei Lannister could get a hand on her. Olenna had her suspicions about Joffrey and all Margaery needed to do was arrange a meeting between her and Sansa in order to convince her cunning grandmother to intervene. In a complete mummer's face, Margaery Tyrell, the lady who was to be queen, returned to Highgarden shrouded in grief, her dress as black as night. The moment she found Sansa in her childhood chambers, she shed the costumes for her rose.

Although Lord Varys boasted his extensive network of spiders, the servants in Highgarden were fiercely loyal to their host and not a word of Sansa's existence leaked, allowing them to spend their days in peace long as Sansa remained within the castle walls. Still, to be secure, Margaery named her a handmaiden acquired in King's Landing. Rose Rivers, a bastard of the Riverlands. As she suspected, Sansa flourished in Margaery's homeland. The roses seemed to bloom larger and her brothers were smitten with her oblivious charm, just as she was. She blushed prettily for Loras to calm his rage even for a moment and laughed courteously at all of Garlan's jokes. Once, when Sansa had accompanied Willas to hawk, Margaery caught his gaze drop to Sansa's hips as she ran and bent to retrieve his glove.

"She is quite lovely, isn't she?" Margaery approached her eldest brother after they had retired from dinner.

"Hm?"

"I saw the way you looked at her. Don't be ashamed to admit it, brother. I, more than anyone, understand the mysterious allure that is Sansa Stark." She smirked and relished in one of the few occasions where she outwitted her darling brother.

"You mean Rose, my sweet sister. The walls have ears."

"Do not play at evasion with me. I know you far too well."

"Then you will also know that I would never take a woman against her will and as kind and gentle of a companion as I may be, she would never willingly take a cripple as a lover." Margaery's heart ached for WIllas, sweet, honest, clever Willas who always seemed to be given all the potential in the world just to have his opportunities taken away. She placed a hand on her elbow and flinched when he stood with his cane and left. Pity never mixed well with Tyrell blood.

That night, as Sansa attended to her, Margaery looked at her lover's face through the vanity mirror. She took in the serene smile on her lips as she ran the brush through Margaery's dark hair and her brow, furrowed in concentration. Her skin was porcelain and stretched across a fine, dignified nose. Yes, it was undeniable the Sansa was beautiful, but tonight, Margaery could not quite look away from the kindness in her eyes or the gentleness in her hands. She could never imagine Sansa being disgusted at an innocent. "What do you think of my brother, Willas?"

"All of your brothers have been so kind to me, my lady. I could not ask for lovelier hosts."

"But Willas - he is handsome, is he not?"

"As handsome as the knights in songs, my lady."

"And he is kind?"

"Is there something my lady would like to ask? I don't ever wish for you to feel uncomfortable or secretive with me, Margaery." Sansa put the brush down and rested her hands on Margaery's shoulders before giving her a kiss in her hair. Their eyes met in the mirror.

"I love you dearly, you must know, sweetling." She smiled as Sansa blushed prettily at her words. "But you must know that one day I will have to marry and we must remain a secret. We live in paradise now, but we cannot remain here forever. The world would not look kindly on us." Sansa nodded in understanding, though terrified at the thought of being left alone. "I wish to keep you with me always and perhaps I could. I wish you to marry my brother and remain in Highgarden. Should good-sisters spend time together and visit each other, no one will think it strange. And Willas will be good to you, I promise. We could say that high born ladies do not wish to marry a lame lord and no one would question you nor call you to court. Willas' injury may be our salvation."

She could see the idea forming in Sansa's mind - the granted wish of remaining in Highgarden forever. As someone who had everything taken away from her, though, her instinct is to anticipate the worst. "I can not imagine Lord Willas would approve and it would hardly be fair to saddle him with me when I am certain there are plenty of ladies in the Reach who would make a good wife to him."

Margaery smiled. Yet another one of her plans was coming to fruition before her eyes. "Fret not, my brother is absolutely infatuated with you and he will make a fine husband to you. It will be a true marriage in every way, except perhaps I may visit your marriage bed when I grow lonely. I promise you will grow to love him as you love me. I would not entrust my dearest with anyone except Willas for I know he will treat you well. He and I have always shared common loves and he has never betrayed my trust. There is, however, the matter of Willas himself..."

A fortnight passed before Margaery's plan was put into action. Truth be told, it wasn't much of a plan. It only took one look for Sansa Stark to bewitch a man, so when Willas Tyrell retired to his bedchambers to find her waiting for him in her nightdress like a virginal bride, it took the breath straight from his lungs. A moment passed before he noticed his sister on the far side of the bed dressed in her silks and mischievous smile. "Oh, Marge, what have you done?" She had told him of her plan to arrange a marriage between him and Sansa Stark, passing her off as a servant who ensnared his heart as she tended to his injury and he only repeated his concern. He was as broken as Tyrion Lannister now and the girl had been through enough.

Yet he couldn't move from his seat when Sansa moved slowly to him and just as he was about to turn away from her proximity, she took his face in her hands. "How could you ever think I would not want someone as good to me as you?" She kissed him, a sweet maiden's kiss if there ever was one, and he threaded his fingers through her hair, unable to resist. She pulled backward and his lips followed her until he was standing, his hand bearing the weight of one side on the table. "If you are to be my husband, you must learn to depend on me." She intertwined their fingers and he allowed her to lead him to the bed, where his sister wasted no time in moving her bright red hair aside to kiss her bare shoulder.

From behind, Margaery cupped Sansa's soft breasts with her hands and kneaded with a practiced familiarity that made her pliable to her touch. His hands, still shaking, reached for the hem of her dress and brought it over her head. It was impossible to look away and both brother and sister watched her blush spread from her cheeks, down her neck, to her chest behind her crossed arms. Margaery was proud of her little rose and the reverence on her brother's face gave her unspeakable joy. Margaery would share the whole world with Willas if she could, and Sansa was the most precious thing she could give.

Understanding the hesitance from both parties, Margaery crawled to the head of the bed, cradled Sansa's head in her lap and brushed the wild red strands from her forehead. When Sansa closed her eyes to her familiar touch and did not struggle when Margaery reached down to her arms and pulled them away from her chest. "Do not hide yourself, love. You are perfection."

"Indeed you are," Willas murmured before settling himself on top of her and bestowing her a kiss worthy of a queen. Beneath her hands, Sansa felt the muscles of his back beneath his shirt and moaned at the strength in his arms as he held himself from crushing her. The slow burn in her belly flared and Sansa felt a sudden passion and ardent love for this man. She cradled him between her legs and caressed his strong chest while Margaery continued to play with her hair. She hadn't felt this safe since she left home in what seemed like forever ago.

Sansa reflected strangely on how similar Margaery and Willas were in bed. They were both gentle and willful all at once, knowing the reaction they wanted and just how to elicit it from her to the point where it nearly frightened her. His lips were as gentle as hers on Sansa's breasts and his eyes remained faithfully on hers when they were not otherwise occupied with admiring her form. The differences, however, delighted Sansa as well. Where Margaery's hands were delicate and soft as butter, Willas could nearly cover her midriff with one hand and encircle her thigh with the other. When he pressed against her, it was with more force than Margaery and he groaned instead of whimpered and gasped the way Margaery did.

Still, Willas did not yet know her body the way his sister did and it was Margaery who told him that she was ready for him. Sansa blushed, knowing how wanton she must look, panting and wet for someone who was not yet her husband. Of course, Margaery never was and never would be either, but she had a way of putting Sansa and her courtesies at ease. Willas was gentle when he pushed into her and gasped when he reached her maidenhead. "I didn't know - we don't have to-"

"Don't be ridiculous, Willas. We've gone this far. Beside, you will marry her or I will maim your other leg myself," Margaery insisted and Sansa rolled her hips in a way that he could not deny and with one push, she bled. It burned at first, but Margaery's hands were gentle in her hair and her lips whispered sweet words while Willas covered her in kisses. Before she could take a breath, it seemed the pain had become a dull ache and a wave of pleasure began to roll within her. Suddenly, Willas pressed a thumb against her and it all came crashing down, her legs trembling and hands tightening the way they did when Margaery kissed her between her legs in the field. She felt his seed, the seed that would bring forth the rightful heir to Highgarden, spill into her and wondered how long would it take for one to take root. She would like to give him a healthy son, as handsome as both Willas and her brothers - it was the least she could do.

Margaery moved to lay beside her and wrapped her arms around her waist so that her back was flushed against her front. Willas adjusted the blankets before turning on his side and staring at the two most important women in the world for whom he would lay down his life. In that moment, Sansa Stark felt at peace. A wolf resting within a thorny rose bush. Nothing could get to her now.


End file.
